


Horseplay

by Ennaess



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Dunking, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Fun, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pantsing, Roughhousing, Teasing, Underwater Blow Jobs, Wrestling, bros being bros, but with their cocks out, like ya do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennaess/pseuds/Ennaess
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier find a pond and fuck around. Unexpectedly, their horseplay turns sexy.That's it, that's the fic. Light, fluffy fun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 39
Kudos: 432





	Horseplay

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to do something quick and angst free!

It was a perfect, mild midsummer day, and Jaskier would be damned if he was going to waste it getting covered in monster guts or having to sew up a ragged wound.

The crystal-clear body of water he spotted was placid, its surface smooth as glass. Not quite large enough to be called a lake, not quite small enough to be a pond, it was half-shaded and a ways off the road--secluded. A sloping knoll and an aesthetically-pleasing outcropping of rock framed the pool, and small white and yellow wildflowers flecked the ground around it. Their aroma was sweet, even at a distance.

It was the perfect place for a witcher and a bard to dip their tired feet and sooth their sun-warmed skin. 

Didn't the pair of them deserve a little relaxation? Couldn't Roach do with a half-day's rest herself?

It took a little prodding to convince Geralt to stop, but Jaskier knew how to entice his over-worked witcher into a reprieve. "You've slain six drowners, a kikimora, and an archgriffin all in one week. I know you prefer to spend your down time sweating your way through a three-day sex binge, but allow me to suggest an afternoon floating lazily in a cool, quiet pool, with no one around for miles to bother you."

Geralt glanced down at him from atop Roach. "No one to bother me? Where will you be, then?"

"Oh, har har, very funny."

With an amused smirk, Geralt guided Roach off the road.

The witcher dismounted, then tied his steed to a sapling at the edge of the knoll--still a ways away from the water's edge--while Jaskier shrugged off his lute and his doublet, setting them snuggly in a nearby half-circle of stones. Soon, Geralt had Roach's tack off her back, and had shed his swords, gauntlets, and pauldrons.

"What would you say, dear friend," Jaskier suggested, propping one hand on his hip and waving the other through the air, "to a bit of sport? A little friendly competition?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small, entertained-yet-skeptical quirk. Jaskier loved that particular expression--it made Geralt's handsome face take on a new kind of life: mischievous and daring.

"What kind of sport?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier frowned as though thinking--as though he didn't already have a plan. He glanced at his fingernails, rubbing at them lightly, attempting to hide his nervous energy. "Oh, I don't know. Let's say--"

In a flash, he darted away--the effect only mildly ruined by his boots slipping on the wet grass. "Race you to the water!" he called. "Last one in is a rotten harpy egg!"

He whisked his undershirt over his head as he ran, holding it aloft, allowing it to trail behind him like a flag before releasing it into the slight breeze to be carried off to the ground somewhere nearby.

After a moment, he glanced back, to see if Geralt was following or was leaning against Roach with his arms crossed, watching Jaskier act a fool. The bard was delighted to find that not only was Geralt on his heels, the rest of his armor had already been discarded along the way.

Not that the race and the promised swim were just an excuse to get Geralt naked or anything.

No. Not at all.

Jaskier started undoing his trousers as quickly as possible, yanking the ties in the back as he ran, holding onto the hem firmly to keep them from falling as he approached the shore. The pebbles near the water's edge crunched lightly under his boots, and he immediately plopped himself down to pull off his footwear.

In the next instant, Geralt was at his side, shirt gone, boots somehow already off and in-hand. He tossed them to the side before he began to work frantically on the buttons of his breeches.

Feet free, Jaskier stood and triumphantly let out a "Ha!" as he let his own trousers drop and kicked them away, leaving him in nothing but his braies for swimming.

But before Jaskier could splash into the water, Geralt leaned over, grabbed the sides of Jaskier's smalls, and _pantsed_ _him_.

"Ach!" Jaskier bent over, frantically grabbing for his braies before they could fall lower than his knees, effectively mooning Geralt in the process--which, really, the prick deserved. "Ger _alt_!" Jaskier whined.

He was shocked that Geralt would be so unfair as to debag him.

The witcher let out a rare and beautiful belly laugh as he untangled himself from his trousers and slid into the water--with _his_ smallclothes still perfectly settled over his hips. "Cheer up," he said. "Rotten harpy eggs are a delicacy on some islands in Skellige."

"Oh, and how do they feel about cheaters in Skellige?" Jaskier countered, pulling his braies up, trying not to blush--trying to hide the way his cock had instantly started to fatten when it hit the pleasant summer air.

"And what do you call dashing off before you've so much as defined the rules of competition?" the witcher asked.

Jaskier tried to focus on the banter--tried _not_ to think too hard about Geralt's gaze falling to his bare backside. Tried _not_ to think about what might happen if he decided to throw caution to the wind and slip into the pool naked beside the witcher. Tried _not_ to imagine yanking Geralt's smalls down just the same.

"That wasn't cheating," Jaskier insisted. "That was me being strategic."

With that, he plodded into the water. It was the perfect temperature--cool, but not cold. His skin prickled pleasantly.

Geralt turned to face Jaskier, walking backwards, deeper into the pool. "And, strategically speaking, it only made sense to divest you of your braies. You're always distracted when your cock and balls are out."

"How would you--?" Jaskier cut himself off, bit his lip.

Geralt simply raised another wry eyebrow.

It wasn't a mystery. Geralt hadn't only been privy to the aftermath of some of Jaskier's more _questionable_ liaisons, but had also come dashing right into the middle of many. Often in order to warn Jaskier of a rampaging fiancé or boisterous father on the way.

He'd seen Jaskier's cock and balls _dripping_ with distractions plenty of times.

"Never knew you paid so much attention to my cock and balls," Jaskier said, trying for snarky, landing somewhere between whiny and abashed.

"You tend to make them an issue I can't ignore," Geralt said, deep enough into the pool now to tread water.

Jaskier stopped walking and sank himself mostly beneath the surface, low enough to hide the pursing of his lips and his embarrassed--somewhat _demure_ \--expression, but not so low as to cover his nose and force him to hold his breath. He looked away from Geralt, unable to hold the witcher's haughty, amused gaze.

He willed himself not to find the conversation titillating. Not to read too much into Geralt flat-out mentioning his cock.

This was just a ribbing, nothing more.

Geralt ducked under the water, wetting his hair, throwing his head back as he came up again. Jaskier tried not to look directly at him. He was so beautiful, but Jaskier knew it was dangerous to stare.

The day was wonderful, perfect. Almost too perfect. So perfect, Jaskier could easily get lost in certain desires he usually suppressed. So, instead of Geralt, he focused on the soft slipping of the water around him, on the breeze ruffling his hair, on a nearby butterfly that dipped down for a drink before fluttering off again.

Geralt continued to tread water for a minute more, regarding Jaskier's silence and his meek posture with a gentle tilt of the head. He seemed to sense something was amiss.

Tossing his head, shaking some of the excess water from his mane, he swam back over to Jaskier with a handful of powerful strokes. "What's the matter?" he asked, staying low in the water with Jaskier, though it would have only come up to his ribs if he'd let his feet find the bottom.

"Nothing," Jaskier mumbled, letting the surface lap at his lips. He threw in a little smile for good measure. He wasn't morose--he was quite happy.

He just didn't want to let on as to exactly _how_ happy.

And Geralt's proximity, his intense stare, and his relative nakedness were doing nothing to discourage Jaskier's cock from thickening and throbbing between his legs.

"You _can't_ be upset I beat you to the water," Geralt prodded.

"No," Jaskier said brightly.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Your voice is doing that little trill thing it does when you're hiding something from me."

"No it's not," he denied, hearing that very trill flutter through the last word.

Geralt gave a half shrug, turning away as though to swim off again. "Fine, don't tell me."

Thinking Geralt had let it drop, Jaskier let himself breathe a sigh of relief. 

But then the witcher dove beneath the surface.

And swam _right for Jaskier_.

The bard only had time to stand up straight before there were hands on him--his hips, his thighs. Geralt yanked down his smalls again, playfully pinching his bare arse beneath the water before swimming away once more.

When the witcher came up with a gasp naught but a few feet away, Jaskier immediately began splashing him. "You _cheeky bastard_ ," he laughed, one hand struggling to pull up the sopping fabric while the other kept flicking through the water, showering Geralt.

The witcher smiled, rubbed water out of his eyes, then held up both hands to shield himself from the onslaught.

"You great _twat_ ," Jaskier continued as Geralt stalked towards him, creating huge, sloshing ripples as he went. "You utter _horse's arse_ , how _dare_ you--"

Geralt swooped in, scooping Jaskier underneath his armpits and barreling him backwards into the water.

They both went under, with Geralt falling against Jaskier.

Jaskier, who hadn't been able to pull his soggy braies up. Jaskier, who was all too aware of how his full, fat cockhead brushed against Geralt's belly as they bobbed in the water. Jaskier, who was being held under by a witcher--a witcher whose hand had slipped from Jaskier's armpit to the small of his back, likely to prevent him from accidently knocking against any protruding rocks in the pool, though it had the marvelous effect of keeping their bodies pressed close.

 _Gods,_ Jaskier thought, _kill me now_.

He figured he might as well stay underwater, seeing as how there was no way Geralt was going to miss that there was a hard cock now prodding into his stomach.

Geralt pulled them both up a moment later, letting out a raucous laugh as Jaskier spluttered for air.

Instead of bracing himself for the inevitable teasing, the bard went on the offensive. "Why you--" He dove at Geralt, thinking a bit more wrestling, more roughhousing, might at the very least be enough of a disruption to get the witcher to forget about whatever he'd thought he felt.

Jaskier hooked an arm around Geralt's neck, intending to pull him down--to dunk him in turn--but Geralt planted his feet on the pool bottom and didn't so much as budge. Surprised by the complete lack of give, Jaskier's tug on the coil of his own arm snapped him forward, and he found himself flush against Geralt's chest.

Jaskier frowned--pouted, really--and Geralt laughed again. The witcher reached under the water for Jaskier's hips, arms flexing, ready to push him away, when suddenly the tension in his body changed.

Instead of shoving the bard off, his hands smoothed over his hips and around to the swell of his backside, as though fascinated--surprised, even--to find Jaskier still so exposed. So naked.

There was a brief moment where their eyes met--Geralt's grin still wide, and Jaskier's exaggerated pout still heavy on his lips.

Both of their expressions twitched, faltering for half an instant, as they each recognized the accidental intimacy of their embrace. Jaskier with his arm around Geralt, Geralt with his hands on Jaskier's naked arse--both of them pulling the other close.

And Jaskier's cock was so, so hard between them.

Both of their gazes flickered to the other's mouth.

Regaining his wits, Jaskier cleared his throat and unlooped his arm from Geralt's neck, moving off. Geralt's palms floated away from Jaskier's bum as the bard turned his back on the witcher.

Jaskier meant to dive into the water and swim far, far away. To the other side of the pool, perhaps. And maybe when he reached the opposite shoreline he'd simply climb out and start running. Better a mostly-naked flight through the woods than having to face his sudden mortification.

But before Jaskier could move more than a few inches off, those palms were back, claiming him around the waist.

Jaskier's breath caught, and his hands instinctually went to Geralt's wrists, though he didn't try to pull his friend's hands away.

There was a beat where neither of them moved.

And then Geralt slowly dragged Jaskier backward through the water, until they were pressed together once more.

The hard, heavy line of Geralt's clothed cock settled against the cleft of Jaskier's arse. 

The witcher rolled his hips once, lightly--nearly imperceptibly. So subtly, Jaskier wondered if he'd imagined it--simply _wished_ for it.

"Uh--uh, Geralt? What are you doing?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"What was that earlier?" Geralt asked, voice dark. "About a three-day sex binge?"

Jaskier bit his lip, closed his eyes. Prayed for strength.

 _Don't fucking tease me, Geralt_.

The witcher leaned in, nosed at him behind his ear, rumbling, "Was that an observation...or an invitation?"

" _Fuck_ ," Jaskier breathed, barely above a whisper.

Geralt's hands left his waist, petted down his sides, to his thighs, then trailled back up to cup Jaskier's arse and hold his cheeks apart.

Jaskier's heart--and his hole--fluttered.

"You wanted to relax, have some fun," the witcher purred in his ear. "So, let's have some fun." He rolled his hips again, more firmly this time.

Jaskier gasped, reached back to tangle his fingers in Geralt's hair. He whimpered when Geralt thrust against him once more.

"Is that a yes?" Geralt asked. "You can tell me no, but I want a _yes_."

"Yes," Jaskier said, voice shaky. "Fuck, _yes_ , Geralt, I--"

The witcher's wet lips landed on the side of his throat, trailed down to the base of his neck. One hand left his backside for a moment, and there was a sloshing of water between them as Geralt pulled down his own braies, freeing his cock in the water.

Geralt rocked forward, and his naked erection slid up the furrow of Jaskier's arse. Moaning, the witcher hid his face in Jaskier's neck.

The bard's limbs started to shake. He couldn't believe this was happening--that he had his gorgeous witcher rutting against him in a picturesque pool on an idyllic day.

"Are you okay?" Geralt gasped into his neck, voice breathy-- _needy_. "I need you to tell me if you're okay, or--"

Jaskier swallowed harshly, his entire body tingling. "I'm good. More than good."

"You're trembling," Geralt said, humping against him--clearly ready to stop as soon as Jaskier told him to, but loath to do so.

"Fuck, Geralt, of course I'm-- _Gods_."

Geralt wrapped both of his arms around Jaskier's middle, hugging him close, one hand splaying up over his pec, the other low over his pelvis.

Geralt was shaking, too. "How come we've never done this before?" the witcher whispered.

"I don't know," Jaskier gasped, covering Geralt's hands with his own. "But don't stop."

Geralt pulled his hips back far enough to allow his cock to slip down, to angle it between Jaskier's thighs. With the first prod of it against his balls, Jaskier squeezed his thighs together, trying to make a tight channel for Geralt to rut into.

Jaskier's own cock jerked and pulsed in the water. Everywhere Geralt touched him buzzed with energy. He rarely felt this awake, this alive, this absolutely aware of every inch of his body. Pleasure thrummed between his legs, made all the more poignant by the slide of Geralt's cock. 

As Geralt began to thrust in earnest, the water roiled around them, splashing up against their sides, and spraying up between their bodies. Jaskier's breath came in great huffs, and Geralt rumbled his pleasure deep in his chest.

Slowly, Geralt's hand on his pelvis shifted lower, searching. Thick, demanding fingers landed on Jaskier's cock and the bard cried out. The witcher's fist wrapped around the base, not stroking, just holding--gripping firmly. 

Jaskier reached back for Geralt's hair again, threading his digits through the wet locks, cupping the back of Geralt's head, encouraging him to explore the bard's neck with his lips once more.

"Fuck, Jas... Your thighs... Your arse..."

"Wait til you've had my mouth," he teased.

Geralt groaned, his grip--both across Jaskier's chest and on Jaskier's dick--tightened. He bit down on the bard's shoulder, his hips bucking all the more wildly. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come," he said with a gasp.

"Do you have any idea how many _fucking years_ I've wanted to make you come?"

Geralt purred at him in response. "Wanna taste you," he rumbled into his ear. "Can I suck you off?"

"Oh gods, please. _Please_. _Yes_."

He expected to be manhandled back to the shoreline. Instead, Geralt spun him around and the witcher sank to his knees below the pool's surface.

Jaskier made an unintelligible sound as warm lips encompassed his cock and white hair fanned out in the water before him. Geralt's hands went to the backs of his thighs to steady him, and Jaskier tried to take a deep breath through his nose to steel himself.

He wanted to thrust forward. He wanted to tangle both hands in that halo of white hair and grind his cock deep into Geralt's throat. But he held himself as solidly as he could.

A part of him _did_ thrill at the idea of getting back at Geralt for pantsing him. He _could_ make the witcher gag, just a little, to prove he wasn't the type to simply roll over and show his belly even in a friendly bout.

But only a fool would risk ruining a spectacular blowjob over a petty bit of horseplay.

Geralt's ability to hold his breath for minutes on end, even without a dose of Killer Whale, was mightily impressive--though Jaskier had never seen it put to this particular task before.

Jaskier's heartbeat skyrocketed as Geralt worked him, making his pulse throb through his cock--which was now thick and straining. He was as hard as he could ever remember being, and his sac tightened with every long drag of Geralt's hollowed cheeks against his shaft. His balls thrummed, and pleasure coiled in his lower belly.

The witcher sucked Jaskier with a fervor, his rhythm steady, his tongue a delight.

When he was close--when Jaskier felt the tell-tale pressure behind his balls--he tried to signal Geralt. He tapped on his shoulder, then tugged warningly at his hair.

Geralt seemed to get the message, because he pulled back to suckle at the tip of Jaskier's hot cock, dipping the tip of his tongue into his slit before pushing forward and taking as much of him as he could. The White Wolf's hands shifted from Jaskier's legs to his backside, pulling Jaskier closer in a demanding fashion.

Gods, he _wanted_ to be face-fucked.

Knowing Geralt had to be close to his limits--that he must be feeling lightheaded with the lack of air by now--Jaskier set to work giving him what he wanted right away, knowing if it was too much, all Geralt had to do was come up.

He wound his hands around the back of the witcher's head and thrust fully, deeply.

A vibration like a satisfied growl rumbled up Jaskier's shaft.

It didn't take more than a handful of grinding thrusts into Geralt's warm, tight suction before Jaskier was gasping, spilling. Before the thrumming in his groin became an eruption through his cock, and the pleasure that had been building became an explosion of ecstasy through his limbs.

And Geralt took it. Took it all.

Jaskier was warm all over. Dizzy with pleasure, with life.

The witcher stayed under the water with Jaskier's cock in his mouth a moment longer than the bard thought he should--but before he could truly worry, Geralt pushed up, breaking the surface with a gasp. He threw his head back. White, damp locks glistened in the afternoon sun.

As Geralt stood, water poured down over him--off his brow, his shoulders, his pecs. Long rivulets streamed over his form, emphasizing every swell and valley. His nipples were tight, pink peaks, and his lips and cheeks were flushed.

Jaskier's spent--though not yet softening--cock gave a valiant twitch at the sight.

Geralt wiped the water from his eyes and smiled at Jaskier, and the bard felt a deep sense of comradery, of companionship.

This felt so freeing, so right.

They should have started playing like this so, so long ago.

Geralt moved up against him once more, pressing into his personal space, nudging Jaskier's hip with his still very-hard and yet-to-be-satisfied cock.

Cupping Jaskier's face in both hands, Geralt tentatively leaned in close, gaze first grazing over the bard's mouth before meeting his eyes. Shyly, he nuzzled his nose against Jaskier's, then brushed his lips against the bard's in a questioning sort of way. He did it again--his mouth just ghosting over Jaskier's--and Jaskier opened to him, mewling as he chased Geralt's inquisitive almost-kiss.

When their mouths collided for real--their lips firmly pulling at one another's--Jaskier immediately snuck his tongue into Geralt's mouth, tasting himself, his spend.

 _His_ come, in _Geralt's_ mouth. 

They kissed lazily, playfully, for a few moments, before Geralt pulled back and leaned their foreheads together.

"Your thighs," he mumbled, ducking in to land another peck against Jaskier's lips. "I want your thighs."

"You...you can have so much more than my thighs," Jaskier admitted bashfully. "You can have whatever you want."

Geralt let out an appreciative "Mmm," before dropping a kiss to Jaskier's lips once more. "How long does the offer stand?" he asked.

"What?"

"If I want your thighs now, can I have...more of you...later?" There was a hesitancy in Geralt's voice, as though he thought some kind of spell had settled over them. A spell that would break when they left the proximity of this perfect pool.

"Of course," Jaskier assured him. "After all, I thought you wanted a three-day sex binge."

"I was teasing."

"Don't," Jaskier said with a smile, leaning in to whisper against Geralt's lips, hands petting down his pectorals. "Don't tease me about such things."

The kiss he gave Geralt was heated, passionate. Perhaps a bit intense for two friends sharing bodily pleasures on a pleasant day, but Jaskier didn't care. _Everything_ about the two of them was intense--their taunting, their fighting, their traveling. Why not this as well?

Geralt growled and rolled his hips, searching for that tight valley Jaskier had created for him before.

Jaskier turned back around, pressing his shoulder blades into Geralt's chest, rubbing his arse against the hot curve of his cock.

One of Geralt's hands snaked up the back of Jaskier's neck and into his hair, holding firmly, pushing forward so that Jaskier would bend over--not far enough for his chest to hit the water, but enough to give Geralt good leverage as his other hand yanked on his hip.

Geralt's cock found the curved gorge of Jaskier's thighs once more, pressing between them, hissing as the bard purposefully squeezed, making the passage as tight as he could. The witcher groaned as he began to move, gently yanking Jaskier back and forth by the firm grip on his hip and in his hair.

The witcher muttered nearly unintelligible praises as he thrust. At first Jaskier thought he'd imagined the " _needed this_ " and " _you're perfect_ " and " _wanted this for so long,"_ but then, clear as day, Geralt moaned, "How the fuck are you so good to me?" before curling over Jaskier's back to press his forehead between his shoulder blades as he fucked between the bard's legs.

Jaskier let him babble. Let him say whatever he needed to say. He didn't want to interrupt, make Geralt self-conscious.

The words were so pretty, and Jaskier would not lose them by being a fool who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

When Geralt let go of Jaskier's hair in favor of having both hands on his hips, letting loose a fully-body shudder against Jaskier's spine, the bard knew the witcher was close. "Come for me, Geralt," he ordered softly.

Geralt's hips stuttered, and he thrust forward more harshly. "Wanna come _in_ you," he mumbled. "Wanna come inside you. Fuck. I want-- I want--"

Jaskier felt heat blossom between his legs as Geralt's cockhead slipped forward once more--a liquid warmth in the cool pool.

Geralt's come against his thighs.

The witcher grunted, gasped. Gave a few more pointed, needy thrusts, before he pulled Jaskier back against his pelvis with a bruising force and kept him there--nuzzling against the bard's neck as he slowly came down from his high.

They both let out ragged breaths, chests heaving.

After another minute, Geralt stood straight--the strands of his wet hair trailing ticklishly over Jaskier's spine as they left. Jaskier started to straighten as well, but was unceremoniously scooped off his feet and carried--bridal style--out of the pool and over to the grass, where Geralt plopped him down on his bare arse, his soggy braies still twisted around one ankle.

Before Jaskier could say anything, Geralt straddle his hips and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above the bard's head against the ground. Jaskier made a half-hearted show of trying to buck him off, but grinned wide. "What's this then?" he asked cheekily.

"How about another competition?" Geralt proposed. "We wrestle, see who can pin the other for ten seconds first. Winner gets..."

"Yes?" Jaskier asked with a quirk of his brow.

Geralt leaned in close to his ear, hot breath tickling his neck. "Winner gets to ride the loser's dick tonight."

Jaskier's eyes rolled back, he bit his lip. Gods, just the idea of having Geralt's cock in his--

Wait.

"Hang on," he said suddenly, " _Winner_ gets fucked in the arse?"

Geralt leaned up a little, a smirk plastered across his lips. " 'S what I said. Ready? Go."

"Hey, what--?" Jaskier wriggled, trying to flip Geralt over, trying to wrench his wrists free, trying to kick out.

And, steadily, Geralt started counting. "One...two...three..."

"That's cheating!" Jaskier giggled.

"Four...five..."

Jaskier continued to struggle, his laughter becoming all the fuller as the seconds ticked on. His limbs felt light and loose, his heart swelled.

"Six...seven...eight."

"Geralt...Ger- _alt_..." he giggled, kicking is feet against the ground.

"Nine...ten."

The witcher looked down at Jaskier, appraising his position, glancing first to where his hips were pinned, then his hands. "Hmm, looks like I win," he said, feigning surprise.

"You bastard," Jaskier said with a bright smile.

Geralt leaned in and kissed him deeply. "Don't think I'll hear you complaining when I take your cock tonight."

"We really gonna do it?" Jaskier asked. "A three-day sex binge?"

"It's how I like to spend my down time," Geralt said with a wink.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are <3


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